The evil that is facebook. So I went on there, of course as soon as I split up with HIM. I chatted to my friends, made some old contacts and laughed over the drunken photos we uploaded after a night out. Then HIS friends added me. Some of them, which I thought a little odd but of course you accept so you don't look rude in cyber world.
So many addictions, so little time. What are you addicted to? Smoking? Coffee? Chocolate? Soda? Sugar? Food? Exercise? Blogging?
I haven't based this on any scientific study, but it's my observation that...
If you're alive, you're probably addicted to something.
This is a really simple blogpost for a really simple reason:
I'm carving out a sharing strategy of content I read that I want to save and share.
I'm not talking sites I want to return to time and again. Not yet anyway.
I'm talking first time reads that I think "Ooh, this is good I want to share it."
Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I should not just have that giddy light hearted tell all excitement. But I do. And it keeps growing.
Pranking friends and mocking people from afar has never been so easy, now that Facebook is on the scene.
Cathy's never really pregnant like her status line occasionally suggests, by the way. She's just left her account open on the computer in the main room again. I'm sure she'll appreciate your concern and congratulations regardless, so don't be discouraged by the truth.
Breakups have never been simple affairs. No matter how quickly we try to tear off the Band-Aid, there’s the inevitable period of disentanglement between the initial conversation (“We have to talk…”) and the final separation (“Kthxbye”). And generally, the longer the relationship was, the longer this period lasts.
I think I take this Facebook stuff too literally.
As of today, I have 41 Facebook friends -- a nice mix of longtime friends, relatives, former co-workers, fellow bloggers, group members, and email-list folks. I make new friend requests sparingly, trying to carefully decide if I've known someone long enough and well enough for them to give a damn about where I take a walk or what I have for dinner. And I'm always surprised when they don't turn me down.
I rarely get involved or blog about anything other than what I am a professional on, namely, being a Mom, and even that "professional" status is questionable. I'm one of those people that sit back and half listen to what is going on in the world and just kind of go with it. I have enough to worry about, lest I add anything new and exciting.
Actually, allow me to immediately disappoint and/or delight you: I will not be sharing 25 random things about me. I am, however, going to share with you how the entire world seemingly sat up this week and said to themselves (and then their editors), "self, I must write about the 25 Random Things About Me Meme, express my feelings about it and then, without engaging in narcissistic oversharing with my own 25 things list, proceed to praise/disparage/be inspired by those who do dare to share."
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